Musings
Feeding the birds
Like millions of other Americans, my wife and I enjoy feeding birds. Given the fact that we live in the woods and have accidentally also found ourselves feeding bears, we long ago ceased stocking our feeders once spring has arrived and our furry neighbors have...
Chipmunk Dreams
Many years ago a family of chipmunks moved into our house. Not the house proper, of course; nothing like that. Instead they took residency under the stone-and-concrete walkway leading from the front door out to the attached screened porch. When we built the...
Play Your Own Tune
Recently I had the honor of addressing a roomful of people interested in writing. As part of the address, I talked about the novelist Frederick Manfred, an excerpt of which follows. It's been several years since Frederick Manfred died, and I for one still mourn his...
Don’t They Know?
Some months ago grandson Jack, then 7, asked me to tell him something about “the old days.” When I asked him what he meant by that, he said, “You know. Something old-fashioned. When things were different than they are now.” Casting about for a recollection that might...
Character and Fate
When I was a callow young fellow and knew a lot more than I know now, someone told me that character and fate were pretty much the same thing. Instead of fate crashing down on you from the outside, it supposedly grew from within the seeds of your own character....
Night Thoughts
The other day a friend called to tell us of the death of a mutual acquaintance, and that night I had difficulty sleeping. Over the past year a number of close friends have passed away, and each time my mind rebels at accepting the fact of their disappearance. This...
A Pretty Good Life
At a recent family get-together, talk turned to memories of Dad. As usual, the memories proved refreshing, and made us measure our own lives against the long arc of his. Pops made it to the age of 91 and died in the spring of 2002. Had he lived until August of that...
Unbroken Circle
For the past couple of months my wife and I were in Florida, soaking up sunshine and orange juice and good cheer. We walked a mile or two each day, swam around in the pool every afternoon, and worked at trying to learn the names of various trees and flowers and birds....
Ernie’s Place
One of the joys of being a writer is to visit places that link you to the work of other scribblers. Over the years I've met and conversed with several well-known Midwestern writers, and toured the homes of a few who are no longer with us. But for me the twin high...
Some Thoughts About Writing
Every now and again you come upon a quote that resonates with you. Over the years I’ve taken to writing them down, to revisit them for inspiration or just chuckles. Here are a few of my favorites. “He asked, ‘What makes a man a writer?’ “Well,’ I said, ‘it’s simple....
High-Tech Blues
Many years ago, on a Monday night, shortly after borrowing money from our local bank to buy a nice new state-of-the-art electronic typewriter, I sat down to write a Cracker Barrel column. I flipped on the power switch, fed a sheet of paper in the sleek, space-age...
Surviving Winter
Every year about this time, along with most everyone else here in the great north woods, I get royally sick of winter. Over the years I’ve tried to figure out just where the irritation comes from. I know it’s not just snow. The view out the window is beautiful....